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  “Ahh, this again.” Frank gave her a sympathetic smile. “Peps, it’s okay to be shy. Not everyone can be like me.”

  She didn’t laugh at his attempt to soothe her with humour. Instead, she blew at her bangs and glared harder at the ceiling. “I fail at everything because I’m shy, Frank. How is that okay?”

  “What did you fail at tonight? Serving drinks at Rupert’s? Not possible to fail at that. Rupert tells me you’re the best waitress he has. No one’s ever complained about you, you make buckets in tips and you’re happy to work overtime.”

  Pepper shook her head. “It wasn’t serving drinks. Although Rupert told me tonight I wasn’t his best waitress.”

  Frank tuttered. “He’s not going to tell you that to your face, honey. But enough of trying to dodge the issue here. What did you fail at tonight?”

  Hitching herself up onto her elbows, Pepper gave Frank a frazzled sigh. “Nick Blackthorne’s band was in the bar.”

  Frank’s eyes widened. He let out a long whistle. “God, wish I was there. Those men are serious eye candy. What did you do? Spill a drink on one of them?”

  “No, I convinced the drummer to let me audition as their new lead singer.”

  Frank’s mouth fell open.

  “And we kissed.”

  Frank’s eyebrows shot up his seamless forehead. “And this is a failure because?”

  Pepper slumped back on the bed and resumed glaring at her ceiling. “Because when we walked out of the bar the paparazzi were there. They started taking photos of us, yelling at us, and I bolted back into the bar like a goddamn chicken.”

  Silenced stretched in the room for so long Pepper shucked herself up onto her elbows again to frown at her roommate.

  He shook his head at her. “I don’t know what to comment on first.”

  Pepper snorted, dropping back to the mattress. “I so wanted this, Frank. You know how much. The closest I ever got to living my dream was when I managed Black Toad Dare, and I failed at that as well.”

  “They hit the indie charts because of you, honey. Your skills launched them above all the other generic grunge-rock garage bands. And then they dropped you like a hot potato for some Ferrari-driving prick,” Frank pointed out, his fingers plucking at the laces of her boots, “after which they were never heard from again. You didn’t fail with them, Pepper. They failed you, by not listening to your brilliance. Why you didn’t sing with them still confuses me. You could have kept them on the right track at the same time as wowing the world with your voice. But this is not important right now and has nothing to do with Nick Blackthorne’s band. Nor kissing its drummer. Who kissed who?”

  Pepper rolled her eyes and pulled herself upright to hug her knees to her chest. “Can you be serious for a moment, Frank. I blew my chance at auditioning for Nick Blackthorne’s band. That’s more important than a kiss.”

  Frank shook his head. “No way. A kiss tells you everything. How did the drummer kiss you? A peck? A chaste smooch?”

  Heat flooded Pepper’s cheeks.

  “Ah-ha.” Frank smirked. “Was this before or after he agreed to let you audition? And by the way, oh my God. You’re going to replace Nick Blackthorne. Way to bust out, baby.”

  Pepper scrunched up her face and shook her head. “I’m not replacing Nick Blackthorne, I’m auditioning, that’s all. And after the way I behaved tonight, it’s unlikely I’m doing that. And even if I did, I’d probably choke and fail.”

  Frank cocked an eyebrow. “The kiss, Peps. When did the kiss take place? Before or after he agreed you could audition?”

  “After.”

  “So he agreed to hear you sing.”

  Pepper nodded.

  “And then kissed you.”

  Pepper nodded again.

  “With tongue?”

  “Frank!”

  Triumph beamed from Frank’s face. “With tongue. See? He wants to hear you sing. I guarantee he will call. I take it he has your number?”

  “But I ran away.”

  Frank scowled at her. “Honey, you are gorgeous, and I will bet a month’s rent he won’t let you slip away. Especially after kissing those lush lips of yours.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “I would kill for lips like yours. If only I were straight, I’d be kissing those lips of yours every—”

  Pepper’s cell phone burst into life, which saved her from shoving a pillow over Frank’s face to shut him up.

  Reaching for her tote, she withdrew the trilling thing from its depths and looked at the screen.

  And gasped.

  In a blur, Frank snatched her cell from her loose grip. “Drummer Boy? Is it him?”

  Pepper’s mouth grew dry. She nodded.

  Frank crowed with laughter. “See? See? The kiss reveals all.” He held her phone out to her. “Answer it, honey. Before I do.”

  Hand shaking, Pepper took it from his fingers, swiped her thumb over the screen and raised it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “You don’t like having your photo taken, eh?”

  Her heart skipped a beat as Noah’s deep, smooth voice slipped into her ear. “I’m not good with…I’m…” She dragged her fingers through her hair and let out another sigh. “Why are you calling me?”

  “I thought you’d like to know where to go tomorrow.”

  “For what?”

  If he said sex, she wouldn’t be able to say no. She may have lost her chance to sing, but at the sound of his voice, her body was doing an awesome job of reminding her how amazing his kiss was. How incredible it was to be kissed by him.

  Instead, he laughed and said, “The audition.”

  Pepper’s heart slammed into her throat. “Really?”

  “Why do you sound surprised?”

  Heat prickled up the back of her neck. “Because I ran away when the paparazzi took photos of us.”

  “Hell.” His warm laughter made her tummy clench. “I damn near threw up the first time I appeared on TV. Nick, Strings and I were playing live on a breakfast show in Australia. The host decided to do an impromptu interview after the performance and I thought I was going to bring up my cornflakes on national telly. Cameras are scary, especially when you’re not prepared for them. But there’ll be no cameras at the audition tomorrow. Promise. Reckon you can be at the Loft on Wooster, in SoHo by ten a.m.?”

  Her heart thumping so hard in her ears she could barely see straight, Pepper shook her head. And then flinched when Frank slapped her leg and mouthed, “He can’t see you.”

  “Ten would be fine,” she said. Her tongue felt numb. He still wanted to hear her sing? Oh God, he still wanted to hear her sing.

  “Excellent,” he continued, that friendly chuckle still in his voice. “Reckon you can be here at my hotel room in half an hour?”

  Pepper’s belly knotted. Her sex constricted. Instantly, her lips tingled with the memory of Noah’s kiss. Her body joined in, reminding her how wonderful his hands had felt on her hips, her thighs.

  “Y’know,” Noah said before she could stammer a response she knew she’d regret later, “I’ve never…what I mean is…that kiss? Fuck, it shook me to the core. I really would like to do it again.”

  The knot in Pepper’s stomach coiled tighter. “I would too,” she said into the phone, her voice husky. “But not…”

  “Not until you sing for us?” he finished for her.

  She sighed, the wry sound barely an exhalation of breath. “I was going to say not tonight.”

  “Fair enough. See you tomorrow then? At the Loft?”

  Pepper smiled. “It’s a date.”

  Noah laughed. “Bloody oath it is.”

  He disconnected, leaving Pepper holding a silent phone, her heart wild. “A date?” she muttered, turning her stare to Frank. “Did I really say that?”

  Her roommate grinned. “You did, you little vixen you.” He leapt from the bed and pulled open her closet doors. “Now, what are we going to do about your atrocious wardrobe? You can’t go in jeans and a Yoda T-shirt.”

  Noah
tossed his mobile phone onto the table beside him, a warm tingle of happiness tickling through his soul. The smile on his face stretched wider. Damn, he enjoyed talking with Pepper. She didn’t fawn all over his fame, which he really liked, nor did she carry on as if she was the only woman in the world worth his attention. It was a refreshing change. One he wasn’t in any hurry to be without.

  Shifting on the chair, he swung his attention to the four women asleep on his hotel room bed. All were buck naked, draped over each other, limbs entwined, hair tousled, makeup smeared.

  He drew a slow breath, the erotic sight the stuff of most hot-blooded males’ fantasies and the norm for most world-famous rock stars. The norm also included fucking, but despite the fact he’d brought the women back to his hotel room, he hadn’t screwed any of them. Hadn’t even touched any of them in fact. He’d unlocked the door, invited them in and then…nothing.

  They’d tried to get him into the mood. Had stripped each other naked, kissing the exposed flesh as they went, moaning in the appropriate places. They’d screwed each other silly, their moans growing to porn-film levels of rapture, constantly inviting him to join in.

  He hadn’t. In fact, halfway through all the grinding and moaning, he found himself wondering what the score was in the Australia versus Pakistan cricket match taking place in Sydney. Then he’d caught himself tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm on his thigh with his fingers, his foot jiggling on the floor. Then he thought about the Chris Huntley film and how cool a fight sequence shot in slow-mo would look played out to nothing but some fierce double-kick drum rhythms.

  Not once did he feel like getting out of his chair to indulge in the willingly offered female orgy taking place on his bed.

  He frowned, puzzled. Why hadn’t he? Hell, he’d brought them here for that very thing. To screw. Eight years of sleeping only with Heather followed by twelve weeks of no sex at all thanks to her abrupt departure meant he was overdue a good bonk.

  In his wild days, sex with four women at once would have been just what the doctor ordered when he was feeling…on edge. The trouble was, the edge thrumming through his body had nothing to do with twelve weeks of no fucking and everything to do with Pepper Kerrigan.

  In the days since Heather had left him, he hadn’t once thought, Gee, I could really do with a good fuck right now. It wasn’t until Pepper approached him in the bar, with her shy smile, outrageous proposition and incredible music-trivia knowledge that his body told him he’d been without. And it wasn’t until he’d entered his hotel room with the four women that his mind had told him he didn’t want to sleep with anyone except Pepper. How had the woman done that to him? More to the point, why wasn’t he angry about it?

  Still studying the sleeping women, he retrieved his phone from the table and called Samuel’s mobile.

  The lead guitarist answered on the sixth ring. “What the fuck, Holden? I’m kinda busy here.”

  Noah pictured the lush blonde Samuel and Jax had left the bar with, waiting to see if his body reacted.

  Nope. Nada.

  “I’ve got someone auditioning for lead singer tomorrow,” he said, not remotely disgruntled his cock wasn’t stirring. “Ten a.m. at the Loft on Wooster in SoHo.”

  “Are you kidding?” The anger evaporated from Samuel’s voice, replaced with disbelief. “Already? Who?”

  Noah chuckled. Samuel was all about the ladies…unless the topic of music was on the table. Then sex didn’t stand a chance. Samuel wouldn’t want anyone to know that though. It’d ruin his hard-earned reputation.

  Turning away from the sleeping women, Noah picked up the hotel-supplied pen. “Is Jax there?”

  “Of course he is. He’s balls deep in pussy right now, giving me weird looks.”

  “What’s the drummer boy want?” Noah heard Jax call.

  “He tells me he’s got someone auditioning tomorrow,” Samuel replied.

  Noah grinned, drawing a little stick figure Darth Vader pointing a blaster at Han Solo on the hotel note pad. “It’s a waitress from the bar,” he said into the phone. “She challenged me to a music-trivia contest, and I lost so I promised her—”

  “Whoa,” Samuel cut him off. “Back up a sec. You lost? How the fuck did you lose? I know you’ve got the attention span of a gnat when you’re not at the kit, but you’re a freak when it comes to music trivia. How could she beat you? Were you letting your dick do the thinking?”

  Noah laughed. “No. Well, not until she kissed me and—”

  “Jesus, Holden.” Exasperation laced Samuel’s expletive. “We’re listening to a woman sing because she made you horny?”

  “We’re what?” Jax’s faint question came through the connection.

  “Listening to a woman sing tomorrow,” Samuel answered. “Now shut the fuck up, Jax, and let me talk to Noah. Jesus Christ, Holden,” he said, consternation in his voice. “It’s been a long time since you let a groupie manipulate you like that. Didn’t you learn anything after what Heather did to—”

  “She’s not singing because I want to fuck her, Strings,” Noah interrupted him. “She’s singing because I agreed she could. Simple. Now stop being a fucking tosser. You’ve done your fair share of stupid shit thanks to your dick. Besides, she intrigues me. And…” He paused, wondering if he should tell his friend what he was feeling.

  “And?” Samuel prompted.

  “I felt…focused when I was with her.”

  Silence followed. Noah flicked the pen between his fingers, waiting. Samuel knew him better than anyone else. The significance of Noah’s proclamation would not be lost on him.

  Finally, a rough sigh sounded through the phone connection. “Okay, Noah, she can sing, but the rest of us are allowed to laugh at you when she’s done. Deal?”

  Noah grinned, and drew a flower sticking out from the end of Vader’s blaster. “Deal. See you tomorrow.”

  Killing the call, he shoved his phone into his hip pocket, pushed himself from the chair and walked to the end of the bed.

  He stood motionless, studying the four women splayed out in all their naked glory for him to see. Waiting for him.

  Clearing his throat with a loud cough, he clapped his hands twice. “Wake up, ladies,” he said, his voice booming around the room. “It’s time for you to go home.”

  Chapter Four

  Pepper paid the surly driver who had delivered her to SoHo, climbed out of the cab and took a deep breath.

  Her stomach was a mad mess of hyperactive butterflies. Her mouth was dry. She’d sipped lukewarm water constantly on the way over, petrified her voice would sound like a rusty saw scraping against steel when she sang and, as a consequence, she now needed to pee.

  All in all, she wanted nothing more than to climb back into the cab and tell the driver to hightail it out of there.

  She would. If it wasn’t for one thing.

  She wanted to see Noah again.

  She’d spent the night tossing and turning, staring at her ceiling, pacing her bedroom floor and doing everything she could to not think of the sexy Australian drummer. Nothing had worked, and somewhere around four a.m. she’d surrendered to what her body wanted and brought herself to a bone-shaking climax with her own hand, Noah Holden firmly in her head.

  She suspected she was going to fail at singing for the band today—it was her M.O. after all—but she could at least see Noah one more time before reality yanked her back down.

  Slamming the cab door shut, she turned and looked at her destination.

  And froze.

  Noah stood at the open door, smiling at her.

  The butterflies in Pepper’s stomach flew into frenzied flight. Her heart thumped fast in her throat. Her nipples pinched tight, becoming hard points of flesh aching to be touched.

  Licked.

  Sucked.

  Oh boy.

  Pulling a deep breath, she adjusted the hem of her shirt—a snug black long-sleeve T-shirt with a plunging neckline Frank had found in the back of her closet—and began walking toward the mus
ician.

  Was she really doing this? Was she really going to—

  Noah met her a few feet from the entry. “You came.”

  The hot memory of her earlier climax lashed at Pepper’s sanity. She nodded, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I did.”

  His smile grew wider. “I’ve only just got here as well. The other guys are inside, ready for you.” He cocked his head on the side, his ice-blue eyes twinkling with relaxed mirth. “Y’know, I have no idea what your last name is.”

  “Kerrigan,” she offered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She wished she’d worn in it a ponytail. She’d be playing with it like a nervous schoolgirl the whole audition at this rate.

  Noah cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not related to Darryl are you?”

  Pepper frowned. “Who?”

  He laughed. “Sorry. Obscure Australian movie reference. Darryl Kerrigan is the hero in the film The Castle. Bloody brilliant movie. I’ll show it to you one day. Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous. Hey, do you mind if I—all I’ve wanted to do since I saw you climb out of the cab is—ah, fuck it. I can’t hold off any longer.” He leant forward and, before Pepper knew what he was doing, captured her lips with his.

  He didn’t hold back. He delved his tongue into her mouth with dominating commitment, swiping over her teeth to seek hers out. He raked his hands up her back, knotting in the hair at her nape. She whimpered, raw pleasure rushing through her at the greedy ferocity of his kiss. She gave him her tongue, feasting on his desire, pressing her hips forward until the rigid length of his arousal nudged her belly.

  Oh God, if he asked her to skip the audition and go back to his hotel room this very second she’d say yes. Without hesitation.

  Smoothing her hands up his chest, she flattened her palm to his heart, reveling in the way it thumped hard and fast—a perfect echo of hers. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She didn’t know if it was a scary concept or an incredible one. She didn’t much care, not if it meant he continued to kiss her like he was now.

  Not if it meant losing herself to the pleasure he awoke in her.

  “Wow,” she murmured, the second his lips left hers a lifetime—or maybe five minutes—later.